Conjugal Visits
by PissyNovelist
Summary: A series of oneshots about off page or off-screen visits made by Clarice Starling to Doctor Hannibal Lecters cell, and show how our favorite pair's relationship grew over their time together. Rated for language, but the rating might change later! :
1. Literature

**I've had this idea kicking around forever, but I got distracted with the final Harry Potter movie, because I've been watching Harry Potter for a long time. So, onto this new idea.**

**I love playing with this pair, because they are genuinely perfect for each other.**

"Hello Ms. Starling. What a pleasant surprise." Doctor Hannibal Lecter eyed her from above his book. She smiled, her pink stained lips curling in the most wonderful way. Her pony tail bobbed behind her, black dress pants and blazer fit her perfectly. She slid the silk jacket off, stretching slightly.

"Hello Doctor Lecter. I'm sorry for interrupting your reading." She smiled, West Virginia twang at a high point. He withheld a smirk. As much as he nagged her for that accent, he found it most interesting. No, he found it more than interesting… he found it _endearing_. He placed his bookmark into the crease with a slow motion, placing it upon four other books in a perfect stack. He ran a slender finger down the worn green cover before returning his gaze to the woman in front of the glass barrier.

"No need to apologize. I've read this book over many, many times. I have it memorized." Doctor Lecter took in her frown, knowing it was the swine by no other name than Chilton which denied him knew reading material. She sat in front of the glass, back cracking as she straightened it.

"So, why are you here Ms. Starling? Has Jack Crawford given you another quiz in attempts to dissect me? Perhaps you've found another victim of mine kicking around. Please, do what do I owe this pleasure?" Doctor Lecter knew that Clarice took his last line seriously. They had a strange connection that no one other than Barney could interpret. Clarice knew the Good Doctor didn't hate her, as he knew that Clarice didn't quite see him as a monster. It was a decent understanding.

"Oh, no reason! That's why I was worrying so much if I bothered you while reading, because I have no real reason to be here. I thought I'd swing by just to chat. Do you mind?"

"Oh, that's a lie, Ms. Starling. You came by to squeeze information about Billy for your case. I do enjoy your company, I must admit. Grace me with your presence long enough, and perhaps I'll give you a taste of what you want." A wink for good measure that had Clarice hiding a blush creeping up her neck. Of course, he noticed it all.

"That's not my motive at all! So, why have you re-read that book so many times?" Clarice leaned back, resting her weight upon her hands.

"You know why, Starling. I have five books in total. An unchanging total in which Doctor Chilton will allow me to possess. Due to the fact that no one is allowed to give me gifts or items, I must make do with the literature I have." He sat upon the ground in front of Clarice, crossing his legs. He took in the sight of Clarice's eyebrows turning upward and her lips pursing.

"He is a terrible man."

"Yes, quite. You shouldn't worry yourself with such trivial matters, Ms. Starling."

"Your wellbeing is not trivial. I need you to be content. As terrible as it seems, when you're happy you are usually more prone to talk to me about Buffalo Bill. By the way, I would not find it rude of you to call me Clarice. Not that you need my permission to call me by what name you want to and I… I'll stop talking." Clarice bit her lip and looked away. She always held a constant twinge of fear within her of sticking her foot in her mouth while speaking to such a reformed man.

"No need to trip upon your words, I appreciate the permission… _Clarice_." He said her name with a certain drawl that caused a shiver to shamble up Clarice's spine. She smiled at the use of her given name, his accent giving it a reformed twist. Her father said her name so much different. As the southern accent was music to hear ears, Doctor Lecter said it so differently.

"Thank you, Doctor. Aside from the book ordeal, how have you been since I was last here?"

"Are you trying to act as a therapist for me?"

"Oh no! No, I was just wondering how you are…"

"I was teasing, Clarice. I've been average. Read, watch that terrible Gospel program, talk to Barney, and exercise in my pen." He said his routine so casually, used to the everyday actions. It all seemed too mundane. Clarice pondered his lifestyle for a moment, a look of amusement overcoming her features.

"Exercise pen?" Clarice's face contorted, only imagining him in a Hamster cage partnered with a wheel.

"Yes. Perhaps when you come to visit next, you'll catch me there. We can take a lovely stroll under the florescent lights under the glaring stares of the guards who are all too afraid to approach me. It gets quite lonely, I ask them to walk and talk with me but everyone refuses my offer."

"Probably because you bit the face off a nurse… oh, that sounded much ruder than intended. I'm sorry." Clarice covered her mouth quickly, looking to the ground.

If anyone else would have said that and apologized, he would have gotten inside their head and destroyed them from the inside out. He would have used his signature cold eyes, emptying them of all life and ripping their mentally to shreds in his victims presence. Any other person would have handed him an empty apology, and been non with their day. But it wasn't any other person apologizing.

It was Clarice Starling.

Clarice Starling, the only person aside form Barney that treated him as a man with feelings and a brain instead of a monster who was dead inside. Clarice Starling, the woman with the perfect eyes that smiled without her needing to move her perfectly sculpted lips.

"Don't worry, Clarice. I understand what you're saying." Doctor Lecter held up a hand in peace, a smile overcoming her. They sat in silence for a few moments, nothing awkward about it.

"Clarice, I'm afraid you'll spoil that half way decent pants suit if you sit upon the ground for much longer. Perhaps we shall depart for today?"

"Oh," a disappointed tone filled the single word before she corrected it ", yeah, I suppose. Well, thank you for letting me interrupt your reading. Good bye, Doctor." Clarice turned upon her heels, but turned to face the glass once more. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head so softly.

"I just finished this, so you should have it." Clarice smiled once more, placing the item into the metal drawer into his cell. She nodded and curtsied softly, sliding the door shut and left him in a hurry. He walked, grabbing the gift with a soft smile.

A hard covered copy of _The Interpretation of Dreams _by _Sigmund Freud. _

**:D**

**More to come, guys!**

**xoxoPN**


	2. Art Therapy

**Just to let everyone know now, I might do some holiday related oneshots for this series. I'm not following a certain timeframe. It's simply a series of scenarios. If you don't like that idea, it's okay. But it's just a warning now. **

Clarice bopped down the so familiar halls of the dungeon quarters, plastic shopping bag bouncing against her hip in its own rhythm. She turned her body to the Good Doctor who was sketching away upon old, stained parchment. He acknowledged her existence, placing the charcoal upon the stainless steel desk. Doctor Lecter took in her clothing choice for the late evening upon her random visit. The obviously discount strapless black dress reached her knees with a cupcake style flair, showing off her pale calves topped off by her second grade shoes. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk of interest taking over.

"Hello Doctor." Clarice nodded with a classic smile he had come to enjoy.

"Hello, Clarice. All dressed up? Why?" He stood to greet her, motioning his hand across her body length. She made an 'oh' move with her lips, looking down upon herself.

"My good friend is taking me to see my favorite musical. I took my hand at dressing up. I believe I look alright. Is something wrong with my choice of clothing," She gripped the sides of her dress and twirled it ", I really don't like dresses. Or wear them. So I'm foreign to the styles."

"The dress isn't ugly, just cheap. Much like your shoes, Clarice. What have I taught you about second grade shoes?"

"Well," she sighed ", thanks. What are you drawing, Doctor?" She leaned against the wall as if talking to an old friend.

"An eye. They've always been a pleasure for me to draw. An eye can hold such stories about a person. Get close and I'll draw yours, if you will allow me the pleasure." He withheld a creeping smile as the woman shrugged. She grabbed the chair Barney kept within the dungeon for Clarice since she started making random visits. She sat and leaned in to the glass. Lecter pivoted, moving a new parchment towards him. He sketched away, taking every few moments to gaze into her eyes.

"What musical are you going to see?"

"Les Miserable. When I was young, my dad would play the soundtrack in the car. It was one of the few things that happened to be more feminine in my interests. I know all the lyrics."

"I also enjoy that musical. It tells quite the story. I've seen it a few times in my years. I'm sure you'll enjoy it, especially if you already know all the music to heart."

"Oh yes. It's simply incredible! So, do you draw a lot Doctor?" Clarice rested her head within her slim hand, half smiling.

"When Doctor Chilton decides to throw some charcoal my way, yes. I highly enjoy it. Barney does his best to keep supplying me paper."

"Yeah, Barney told me that. The first time we met, I asked him of your drawing habits. It really irked me when Chilton took away your drawings. No words can express how much he needs to be kicked in the ugly mug he calls a face."

"Overkill. I like it, little Starling. I'm done your sketch." He turned up the black drawing, a gasp escaping Clarice. She placed a hand up to the glass, smiling at the piece of art the Good Doctor was offering.

"This is stunning, Doctor Lecter!" He smiled at her dumbfounded reaction.

"You may keep it. I prefer you do. It's beautiful, but the lack of colour keeps it from being... truly remarkable." Clarice smiled a knowing smile which confused the Good Doctor.

"I was hoping the subject of colour would come up!" She emptied the bag she was carrying into the metal drawer. She slid it over to him as he stood to collect the items. Packages of coloured pastels and charcoal sat in uniform upon a stack of plentiful parchment paper. Doctor Lecter was clearly impressed, pulling the supplies from the drawer and onto the table.

"My... Clarice. You must stop buying me things. First a book you bought and gave for my collection, now this?"

"It's alright, Doctor. It's simply a kind gesture. It's well overdue, with all the hospitality you've offered to me."

"I don't get many, Clarice. I've been known for what many people call my crimes for years. They scare people... I scare people. Suddenly, a go lucky trainee comes to me for information and decides to buy me art supplies from the goodness of her heart."

Clarice couldn't hide the apparent blush creeping about her. Doctor Lecter couldn't help but smirk. He knew the effect he had upon the woman who was so kind to him, and she somewhat knew of the effect he had on her. The strange understanding seemed to iron its own kinks. He could make her blush but he was never overly cold or mean, while she could soften his exterior with the mere presence of her smile. The Good Doctor was sure Clarice Starling was unaware that her soft laugh made him long to tell her the things about her current case of Billy, and perhaps that was good enough for now.

"Your kindness surprises me, Special Agent Starling. Not many people of your caliber are polite. Thank you very much. I shall find a way to return the favor." Clarice couldn't distinguish if the words he dumped upon her were genuine, but she decided to think about it later.

"I suppose I must be going. I'll be back tomorrow or the next day, Doctor." she stood with a curtsy, placing the chair to its designated corner. She said her a dues, making her way down the hall. Doctor Lecter debated for a moment, calling to her as she stepping slowly away from his cell.

"Billy. He sees himself as a victim. His incidental killings are a way of fighting the system that abused him so," He heard her footsteps stop so he continued ", much like your job. It has abused you, so you feel a need to fight it by proving your worth via the capture of Buffalo Bill."

He heard an exasperated sigh.

"Good night, Doctor Lecter." The footsteps resumed and disappeared to leave the Good Doctor to complete the drawing of Clarice's beautiful eye.

**See you all… sooner than you think :)**

**xoxoPN**


	3. Breathe Into Me

**School ruined my writing roll… GOD DAMN IT XD**

"Ms. Starling," Barney referred to her while grabbing the first aid kit ", you came at the perfect time. I need your assistance." Clarice got to take a glance at the security camera before being dragged by the kind nurse.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter was upon the floor.

Not moving.

"The other nurse isn't exactly kind to the Doc, and he is too afraid to assist. I trust you have proper CPR training, so you can help. The Doc likes you a lot, so I know he wouldn't hurt you if he got the chance. We are not sure the cause, but he simply collapsed" Barney spewed out all the information to her as the jogged down the hallway.

"How can you be sure he isn't faking?" Clarice's accent cut through her words.

"He might be, but we can't deny him medical assistance. You just have to help, okay Ms. Starling?

"No problem." Clarice was uncertain of her want to assist, but peeled if her jacket anyway and fell to her knees beside the very grey looking Doctor.

"Medics are coming. I'll start compressions. You breathe air into him." Barney started pressing upon Doctor Lecter's chest. Clarice was in a haze, pinching the Good Doctor's abnormally large nose and tilting his head back. She mentally counted Barney's compressions, finally pressing her lips against the Doctor's very cold ones. She kept her two fingers on his pulse point, feeling nothing at all. Her hand shook slightly, the lack of pulse starting to nag at the back of her mind. Clarice felt her chances of finding Buffalo Bill slip away with each passing second, with each compression, and each breath she pushed into his lifeless lungs.

"Come on Doctor, stay with me." His title rasped from her lips, sounding more like 'docta' as it was murdered by her accent triggered by the panic. After a few more compressions ensued before Doctor Lecter returned to his normal colour, heart beat speeding up and breathing on his own. Still unconscious, heavily armored medics placed him atop a stretcher to which Clarice and Hannibal followed closely to the hospital. The hours of waiting dragged on, the smell of the hospital inducing a headache for Clarice. A woman in a white lab coat strode into the room with a clipboard in one hand and pen in the other.

"There seems to be nothing wrong with him. We can't determine if something happened as quick as a seizure or if he faked it. I'm sorry we can't be of better assistance. The police and you two shall advise him back to the hospital soon, yes?" The doctor was about to leave until Clarice pulled out her temporary credentials and showed them off as a flashy symbol of power.

"I need to speak with Doctor Lecter, for the case study." Clarice breathed, hoping the tall brunette would by her lie and simply nod, walking away with her first grade_ Gucci_ shoes. She hesitated, waving her hand after some stomach turning moments. As Clarice stepping into the room full of body guards, she noticed how tight Doctor Lecter's restraints were. His hands were nearly purple, veins bulging. The security agreed to step outside for a few moments while the agent spoke to her subject.

"I know you're awake, Doctor." Clarice tapped the ball of her foot lightly against the tile ground, a steady rhythm filling his ears.

"How can you tell, my dear? Would you do me the biggest of favors and loosen these restraints? I'm losing circulation." She sensed a smirk and a hint of playfulness behind his words.

"I know you, so I'm going to have to say no to that favor. My apologies, Doctor. You will be getting out soon."

"I know, Agent Starling. Thank you for the consideration." A moment of silence sliced through her like a butcher knife, but Clarice was sure it hadn't hazed the Doctor.

"So, did you fake it?" Clarice broke the ice, looking to his face for a moment to see a blank face except the pupils of his eyes.

"Do you think I faked it, Agent Starling?"

"I… well… yes." Clarice looked down in shame for actually saying something so offensive.

"No need to stutter, I understand. I suppose you should hop back to old Jackie Boy. Do tell him I said hello." He eyed her over once more as she turned to the door.

"Oh, Agent Clarice Starling?" His voice practically sang to here. She felt it, the final word he so often claimed. The one sentence that would rot in the padded cell within the depths of her mind until her final breath. He always got her. Doctor Lecter got the final word so often that Clarice had gotten quite well at looking them away, but the initial blow is all the same. She turned with her eyes wide and back so straight it hurt.

"Your lips taste of cheap watermelon… childish lip gloss. But I don't object to your choice of lip wear. It's made you lips quite soft."

Clarice Starling turned towards the door once more to hid an all innocent smirk as she left the room and the hospital behind.

**I'ma go sleep now. Its 1:04am, I've done an entire chapter worth of reading for my psychology class and homework ontop of it, and written 3 chapters and posted to different stories on my fanfiction page XD**

**xoxoPN**


	4. For A Stroll

**Thanks for thinking my Clarice has gotten better XD**

"He's exercising right now. Come along." Doctor Chilton wiggled his finger towards the lovely young agent, leading her downstairs to a separate hallway to the dungeon quarters. Clarice Starling followed behind the pervy man at a safe distance before being faced with a metal door. It was unlatched and pulled open by a man heavily armored.

"You have ten minutes. We are not allowed to be present for the interviews. Confidentiality and stuff." The guard mumbled through his heavy mask stepping out and watching from behind the glass. Clarice took a gulp and a sharp intake of breath. The Doctor's back was facing her, clothed in white instead of the Baltimore Blues he usually sported. Clarice's shoes clacked upon the concrete floor as she placed her toes right at the edge of the foot thick red ring.

"You've upgraded your shoes, eh Clarice?" His voice boomed through the room.

"It wasn't intentional. I put on what shoes matched my suit. But thank you, Doctor." Clarice tilted her head as he turned to observe her black skirt suit with a white button up underneath the undone jacket. He took large strides to her form which started to shake as he got half way through the oval exercise pen.

"_No glass, no bars, no gaurds. Who the hell created the privacy clause when it comes to the F.B.I. Real intelligent, guys. So smart_." The line jerked as he reached the ring, lunging forward at Clarice. As hard as she worked not to flinch, she couldn't help a yelp that escaped her as he jerked.

"They're lovely shoes. So, why are you here?" The Doctor tilted his head softly, pursing his lips.

"Mr. Crawford has sent me." Her head bobbed as she spoke as it so often did. He merely made an 'o' shape with his mouth in a silent expression of mock surprise.

"Well, I'm doing just fine. Tell Jack that I'm touched by his concern. Come… take a walk with me." Clarice nodded, keeping her distance via the red line. 'DO NOT CROSS' read in giant white letters, practically flashing like neon font.

"How have you been surviving the F.B.I, Agent Starling?"

"Just fine, thank you."

"You ready to tell me more about yourself? Quid pro quo, my dear. My information about Billy, for your… whatever I ask of." He tilted his head while taking the corner of his oval pen, Clarice close behind him.

"Go, Doctor."

"What's your favorite colour?"

Clarice stopped and rolled her eyes. Doctor Lecter stopped to turn to her, a serious look upon his face.

"My favorite colour."

"Your favorite colour." He reinforced his point with a slight nod of the head.

"_You_… want to know my favorite colour." Clarice gave him a deadpan look, slowly starting to walk alongside him once more.

"Yes."

"And that's all?"

"Quite."

Clarice looked over at the Doctor once more who was staring straight ahead of him, seriousness plaguing his face. There had to be something more behind his question, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She saw the gears and cogs turning and squeezing within his skull, a mischievous grin begging to pass upon his features. Clarice decided it would simply be best to play his twisted version of his usual Quid Pro Quo.

"Red just so happens to be my favorite colour."

"Why?"

She smirked. Now he was getting somewhere.

"I'm not sure. I love red roses, red lipstick. Red everything. It's a very pretty colour."

"There's more to it. Stop lying." The Good Doctor didn't even look at her to know there was more behind her innocent answer.

"My father wore red ties all the time. It was always silk and soft." Clarice looked down, realizing just now he probably wanted her to put up some sort of mental fight. At this point, it didn't matter. She was tired of his usual mind terrorism, and was in no mood to play games. She was here for Jack, and that's all.

At least, she hoped that was all.

"Yes. Thank you. I'm quite happy you've said red… that makes this so much easier." The Doctor spoke so nonchalantly about his upcoming attack. Clarice raised her eyebrows, her stomach flipping in fear and anxiety. He eyed her inconspicuously as the gaurds tapped upon the glass. They signaled that Doctor Lecter had three minutes of exercise time remaining. The breath Clarice was unaware she had been holding released itself from a tight chest cavity. He turned just as she steadied herself at the top of the oval furthest from the doors.

"You love red, Clarice. I'm sure you dream in it." He looked down upon her with his glittering maroon eyes that churned as he thought.

"Yes, Doctor. My dreams have a ting of red." She wasn't lying. As she dreamt of her worst childhood memory every night the clouds that were meant to be grey and her pajamas that were meant to be blue were tinted with red.

"Step into the red line then, Agent Starling."

Clarice hated how he switched from her name to her title. As Doctor Lecter spoke her given name, she could hear how his tongue caressed each syllable, vowel, and consonant. His eyes bore into her soul. Doctor Lecter was expecting some movement from her. She inched the squared off shoes toes into the red line. His eyebrow raised in distaste.

"I expected more. Closer, please." He pressed harder on the matter. Clarice clued in that Doctor Lecter was testing her, pushing her limits. She was hoping she wouldn't surprise herself with just how far she'd go for the information she wanted. Doctor Lecter truly wanted to know if she would put herself in danger for her precious F.B.I. Clarice pondered and deduced, raising upon the balls of her heels before putting half her foot in the red line.

His smile was halfhearted, and weak. Clarice still wasn't as close as she wanted.

"Closer." He drew out the word as he did the first day they met. But that was under total different circumstances. He was behind bulletproof glass. There was a higher risk factor here. Not only could the Good Doctor wean his way into her personal thoughts, but he could physically touch her.

Clarice thought about the young girl trapped under the influence of a madman who likes to skin off their skins for fun, giving her a boosted confidence. She placed her entire foot in the general middle of the thick red line mere inches from her chest touching his. Her shaky stance and rapid blinking gave her fear away, his small smirk turning into a grin.

"Shaking from the fear, _Agent_ Starling? Or something else?" His drawl drew an amused look from Clarice.

"The fear, I assure you." She snapped quickly, keeping a poker face. Doctor Lecter's mouth merely turned into an 'o' formation, nodding and looking off to the side. He leaned himself closer to Clarice who was doing her best not to shy away. Her back ached to lean back, but her better judgment of an agent adfvised her to stay strong. His nose was barely touching hers as he opened his deadly mouth to speak.

"Billy was created, not born. That abuse I told you about? Not only does he see himself as a victim, but he was created a monster. But I believe our time is up." He stepped back, going right back to walking around his oval to the guards who were parading down the stairs with nurse Barney. Clarice smirked, walking out of the room while the guards checked her out as she left.\

**SCHOOOOOOOL IS TAKING OVER MY TIIIIIIIME**

**xoxoPN**


	5. Poetry Slam

**I like to think Clarice is getting better…**

"We need to talk about what happened earlier." Clarice placed her hands on her hips. She stood in the dungeon quarters within the early hours of the morning clad in only a navy blue tank top, black short shorts, and black flip flops. Doctor Lecter observed her for a moment, noting the bags under her eyes and the way the hem of her tank top crept up her stomach.

"Oh, so you heard about your gift?" Doctor Lecter tilted his head, looking more awake at two a.m than he had in Clarice's time of knowing him.

"Are you expecting a thank you note for the dead guard with a poem dedicated to me carved on his back?"

"I'm not oppose to letter writing." Clarice sat upon the floor in front of the glass, slumping and huffing.

"You can't be doing that. Your cell is bare, you have no bedding or books! Chilton only left you your blanket and it is absolutely freezing down here. Why are you doing this to yourself?" Clarice fumbled with her sagging tank top front, covering her cleavage.

"Worried for me, Agent Starling?" He also sat in front of the glass, having the courtesy to turn away every time she had to readjust her top to cover herself. She simply shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. An unusual silence came over the dungeon quarters as they bore into each other's souls. His maroon eyes pierced her own, searching for an answer to his question.

"It looks like you're at war with yourself. Trapped within your own thoughts, trying to look for an answer? Well, as I once told an old friend, _a red breasted robin in a cage puts all heaven in a rage_. It does enrage me to see you thinking so hard for an answer we both know exists. Don't deny it, Clarice. We both know it's there."

"Is this funny for you?" Clarice forgot about adjusting her shirt and simply stared at Doctor Lecter. Her lips were pursed into a thin line.

"Everything's funny. Did you even read the poem, Clarice? I worked quite hard on it. I have a polaroid of it." Doctor Lecter placed the photograph into the metal drawer, the clang echoing through the halls as he pushed. Clarice hesitated, slowly dipping her hand into the draw and sliding out the photo. She didn't even flinch at the skin flopping to either side with blood dripping and teeth marks.

_For Clarice,_

_Perhaps it was a mistake_

_But then I met you_

_Serendipity _

Clarice didn't know whether to be disgusted or flattered. She placed the photo in front of her feet with an exasperated sigh.

"So this is game to you." Clarice whispered, continuing to look at the photo.

"Everything's funny and everything's a game."

"I have risked everything to keep coming to see you. I've been working so hard to be polite and courteous, but in return you murder a guard and carve my name on his back with a poem. How you managed to do that with all the cameras? I have no idea, but it is unfathomable how you could do that without reason." Clarice threw her hair up into a bun, strands of hair still in her face.

"I had reason, but I'm afraid you wouldn't understand." He shook his head, a smirk upon his features that meant nothing but bad news.

"Try me, Doctor." Clarice threw her hands up in the air. She was tired, cold, and could care less at this point in the night. Clarice shook, running her hands over her goose bumped arms.

"I heard that guard making disgusting sexual slurs about women. You were brought up, and I just couldn't stand for that. So I took the first chance I saw." Doctor Lecter explained with his softest voice, folding his blue blanket and sending it through the drawer. He motioned with his hand, offering it to Clarice. She nodded with a half-smile, taking the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"I understand you have distaste for all those rude, and that you may have seen it as being flattering, but you carved my name into someone's back. Where does that leave me? I mean, I know it's difficult to not dance upon the boarder of common sense and-"

"I'm sorry." Doctor Lecter interjected, causing Clarice to furrow her brow and lean forward.

"You're _sorry_?" Clarice wasn't sure whether he was slapping her intelligence across the face or not. She tried to dig deep into him and see his sincerity, but she couldn't get too far. He was too good at blacking people's attempts to get within his mind. She couldn't understand how a sociopath could admit he was sorry, but she didn't feel like questioning him much further tonight.

"Yes. I am sorry, Agent Starling."

"You know what? Forget it, it's fine, it's already been done. I must go home and sleep, Doctor. Good night."

Clarice folded the blanket and sent it back to him, standing and fixing her shorts. She curtsied and bid him a good night, walking down the hallway to the stair case.

"He is single handedly the most confusing man I've ever met." Clarice patted Barney on the shoulder before leaving the hospital.

**I was sick so I did some writing :)**

**Don't forget to promote me to your awesome Hannibal friends, because anyone who is a fan of Hannibal is a friend of mine :3**

**xoxoPN**


	6. Authors Note, Requests

**GUYS… I have no ideas for this story.**

**How about you PM me and let me know some ideas that you want me to type up? Think of it as personalized stories! I can give you credit for the ideas, but I really don't wanna let Conjugal Visits die :)**

**Xoxo PN**


	7. Close Encounter

**Sorry for the wait, my little readers. I apologize upon behalf of this strange match made in heaven.**

**I want to thank Twisted Love Stories for this idea.**

"Barney, come on… ten minutes. That's all I need." Clarice latched onto the nurse's arm, doing her best to look cute… which is a talent she never thought she possessed. She had grown close to Barney over her weeks of visiting the Good Doctor, so she hoped acquiring what she coveted wouldn't be a difficult task.

"You're lucky you're as sweet as candy and as kind as you are to the Doc, Ms. Starling or this wouldn't even be considered. I'm only doing this because I know he won't hurt you. I'll have to restrain him though. Liability and all that." Barney caved at the thirty minute mark of the FBI agent in training begging for access into Lecter's cell.

"And Chilton will never know?" Clarice smiled, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Seeing as I'd lose my job? Not a single word will be breathed around him. Give me a few minutes. Watch the camera, and I'll signal you down."

Clarice made a 'cha-ching' gesture with her arm. It wasn't every day that a trainee like herself got to be in the same room with _the_ Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Clarice considered her future career as an agent, knowing that she was one of the few people the Good Doctor would speak with more than once. She daydreamed of the cases she would get and all the lives she would save while sitting upon Barney's big swivel chair, looking at her white ballet flats. They were anything but professional, but she found them comfortable. Smoothing a hand down her black dress, she watched the surveillance camera that hovered before Doctor Lecter's cell. When Barney posed the restraints and mask to him, he simply put on his usual charming smile. Clarice tilted her head for a moment, wondering if he was merely baring it for his good friend Barney, or if he was happy to see her. She couldn't let her mind wander much further on the matter, for Barney looked at the camera and waved his hand. A hop skip and a jump later, she met Barney in the middle of the long dungeon hall.

"Ten to fifteen minutes, sound good Ms. Starling?" Barney smiled, raising two eyebrows. Clarice hugged him, squishing his waist as if Barney was a life size teddy bear.

"Of course, Barney. You can call me Clarice, you know. Thanks." Clarice took a moment to wipe the smile off her face, taking long strides to the Doctor's open cell door. On her way, she gave herself a pep talk in her head.

"_Get the information, do what it takes. Be his best friend if you have to… don't let him get inside your head. Just get what you want from him, and do what you can to accommodate the Doctor. You have this, Clarice. Don't panic."_

"Why Clarice, this is quite a different circumstance. Why are you gracing me with your presence today?" Clarice felt her heart sink seeing Doctor Lecter strapped and masked. Still, even with the hindrance, he tilted his head in a characteristic fashion.

"Save the sarcasm-"

"I wasn't being sarcastic."

"Well Mister Charmer, we're off to a good start today." Clarice breathed, looking at the floor. Her toes barely sat on top of the metal slide the glass panes sat upon.

"You may come inside, my dear. No need to be shy. I _can't_ bite. I wish I could say I _won't_ bite, but we obviously can't make promises about that." Clarice concealed a smile that dared to smear across her lips. Damn his odd humor that got to her funny bone every time! She looked down again as she snickered, taking a step inside the cell.

"It's much bigger in here than it looks." Clarice spun on the balls of her feet, then looked at him for a moment with her usual soft glance.

"To those who haven't been in here as long as I would agree with you. Please, sit. My bed is quite comfortable, despite the looks. Chilton has let me keep my cot this week."

"This week? He takes it away," Clarice scolded as she sat upon the small mattress ", and this is barely anything at all. I'm gonna get him. A lil' finger slip, an' it could be all ova." Her accent slipped her thought process as she thought of all the things she could do with her newly acquired gun.

"Oh, plotting Chilton's death? I knew there was a reason I kept talking to you. No insult intended, Ms. Starling." Clarice merely waved her hand with a smile at his statement. She could wait for another day to give him hell for that snide comment and all the others he made during this visit. But now, she had many questions and little time.

"I have some questions about a case that isn't exactly related to Buffalo Bill. I really need your help with it. I'm stuck." She pulled out a cream coloured envelope and placed it upon her lap. Her tone reminded Doctor Lecter of a young child stumped on her mathematics homework.

"Information… is that all I'm good for, Ms. Starling?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow, putting on the best exasperated voice he could muster. Of course, as he planned and hoped, Clarice fell for it. She held a hand to her heart as she shook her head.

"No of course not, Doctor Lecter. You're good for a lot of things. Which is a list I'll tell you after you help me out."

"Well Clarice-"

"Quid pro quo. Got it." Clarice nodded affirmatively while plumping her lips and shutting her eyes for the briefest of moments.

"Has our routine really gotten that bland?"

"Kind of."

"Well, I suppose I can spice it up. Instead of information on the case for information about you, about information about the case for certain actions you perform."

"I thought you were more polite with woman than that."

They both smirked softly at the innuendo, although Doctor Lecter's was much more hidden than her own. Clarice founded herself looking for that smirk that was rarely brought out due to something genuinely funny. She corrected her behavior mentally, reminding herself that Doctor Lecter wasn't exactly the kind of man she wanted to flirt with. Then she corrected herself for using Doctor Lecter and flirt in the same sentence.

"If I ever get the chance, I plan on washing that dirty mouth of yours out with soap. Maybe we can wash away that tornado bait white trash accent away while we're at it. Now, give me a break down of the files and let me see the pictures. Once you complete your task, I'll give you the information," He regarded the hesitant look upon the agent's features ", _I promise_. You know I don't break my promises… especially to woman. Are you up for our game, Clarice?" Clarice was anything but hesitant, opening her folder and grabbing the handwritten notes and paper work.

He admired that about her. His games didn't scare her.

"She removes her victim's eyes. Her victims are scattered… no pattern. They're different races, ages, genders, and locations. She's erratic, and she's very good to. No prints of mistakes that have been found to date. We mainly want to know why she lacks pattern." She sighed, leaning against the stone wall, calves hanging over the edge of the cot.

"I know the answer. All I require if your task… so Clarice, remove my mask." Clarice gave him a deadpan look, breaking out into laughter.

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" Her words almost went unnoticed through her gasping and snorting. The Doctor simply stared holes into her, not understanding what was so obscene about the request. The Good Doctor always assumed- no, knew that Clarice Starling of the FBI didn't find him as horrible as a person as most people did. But she kept laughing. A few moments later, she wiped her eyes from tears and straightened up her posture. She rearranged the neckline of her dress, covering her cleavage that had started to spill due to bending over and laughing. Not that Doctor Lecter had tried to catch a glimpse. He was too much of a gentleman for that.

"That's alright. We shall simply let your killer keep killing… think of all those people you could save. I saw potential in you, but I suppose you'll be another useless agent." Clarice immediately stood at his negative attention. She felt something in her stomach turn and ache. Clarice found herself not exactly liking the Doctor talking down to her.

Well, he always spoke down to her. Yet, it was usually mocking.

"I'm not upset with you, just… disappointed."

_**You don't want Lecter inside your head.**_

Clarice sucked her lips in, biting at them viciously. She looked around the cell and down at the floor, but she felt his gaze upon her. The Doctor wanted a reaction, and Clarice knew she was giving it to him. Her heart faltered, and Clarice hated herself for being so affected by his empty words. Clarice stretched her hands, cracking her fingers roughly. With a deep inhalation, she stepped forward so she was chest to chest with the Doctor. Even if he wasn't aided by the metal restraint cart, he was significantly taller than her.

"Barney is going to be angry." Clarice whispered, tapping her foot against the floor. The Doctor didn't say a word for the moments she stood there. Finally, Clarice raised her arms to the straps keeping the mask to his face. She rose on her toes, and leaned in so far that her cheek was almost against his. The Doctor shut his eyes, doing his best to keep control and not let his tongue trace up the one bulb of sweat dripping down her left temple. She soon felt the mask being pulled from his face, and was watching Clarice set it upon the table. Doctor Lecter took a deep breath, a world of scents overwhelming him.

"You smell of summer… tangerines and watermelon. Come closer." He had an uncharacteristic soft glare about him at this moment. Clarice gulped, looking into the maroon pools before her. Clarice complied for the Good Doctor, allowing him to do his thing. Doctor Lecter then shut his eyes, inhaling a few more times.

"_As long as I get what I came for…"_

"You're wearing concealer and cover-up powder. Why, Ms. Starling? Your complexion is not that of a fourteen year old girl's. Even then, you're skin already is smooth and looks younger than you are. You're also wearing a new perfume I can't place. I like it a lot, actually. It smells of ocean air and tiger lilies."

"Doctor, the information." Clarice placed a hand on his chest, hoping the contact would ground him. Yet he tuned her presence out with another deep intake of breath.

"You just bought that dress. I smell the freshness. It smells of shopping malls, not of fabric softener. Not like you'd put that dress in the dryer anyway. It's first grade. Did you buy it for me… Clarice?"

"I borrowed it from a friend. Now Doctor, the information please."

"I know I can't really smell it, but it smells like freedom and sun upon your skin. I'm sure that's just the smell of you. I enjoy it, Clarice. Come closer, please." His voice was at a whisper, and almost desperate. Clarice was unsure how to take this uncharacteristic episode. Sure, the Good Doctor would smell her but then he would say things that would try to make her uncomfortable. Yet, Clarice sensed he wasn't trying to freak her out, only telling her how he felt.

"Doctor Lecter, this started out sweet… then it got creepy… then it got sweet again, and now we're back to creepy. I need that information!" Clarice tried to keep her voice leveled, but she found herself raging when Barney tapped her shoulder.

"Chilton is coming to do a check up on the Doc in five minutes. We need you out right now." Barney didn't seem to care that Doctor Lecter's mask was upon the table. Clarice gave a cold glare to the Doctor, turning on her heels and storming into the hall. When the Doctor could no longer see her shadow against the wall of the dungeon, he turned to Barney who was giving him a raised eyebrow while he undid the straps off the straightjacket.

"What is wrong, Barney? Is something on… I mean, _off_ my face?"

"I don't care about that. What did you do to Ms. Starling?"

A smirk danced upon his thin lips and he stretched out the growing kinks in his back. As he faced the corner, allowing Barney to safely shut the door, Doctor Lecter spoke up.

"I simply couldn't help myself. I've learned the limits of my control around her. Note to self… **breath through my mouth**."

**I'm back in the game. I'll see you guys soon. :)**

**xoxoPN**


	8. Telephona Obscura

**This is mostly just banter, but it IS Clarice and Doctor Lecter banter!**

Clarice heard her home phone buzz in her ear. She opened her eyes and took a glance at the clock.

"Three a.m.? Who in the world calls at three a.m. in the god damn morning?" Clarice groaned, eyes still shut as she reached for the bedside table for the appliance. It took her a few gropes around the table in the dark, but she finally claimed her prize.

"Starling." Her voice cracked, and it sounded as if she had laryngitis due to her state of tiredness. There was a silent reception for her. Clarice looked at the phone and then held it to her ear once more.

"Hello?" Clarice had a more agitated tone

"We have to be quiet. No one can know I'm out." Doctor Lecter's voice whispered and wove its way into her ear canal. It echoed through the cavern of her brain. She pinched the bridge of her nose, allowing the elbow that had been supporting her weight move itself so she could say back down. A heavy sigh came from the other end, as if waiting for Clarice to speak out of his twisted courtesy.

"How are you calling me?" Clarice asked, genuinely curious. She thought that would be the best place to start.

"Barney is allowing me."

"… okay. What's the real reason?"

"Barney is allowing me… he just doesn't know it's you I'm speaking with. So tell me, how are you this fine night?"

"I'm not one for small talk. Are you in danger, Doctor Lecter? Do you require me?"

"Are you offering, Clarice?"

"Goodnight, Doctor Lecter."

"Hold on…"

Clarice smirked softly. Whenever Clarice thought the Good Doctor had the upper hand, there were always flaws that seeped through. Whether Doctor Lecter liked it or not, he was obedient to her. He listened to her, needed her around. And even though Clarice didn't understand why, Doctor Lecter coveted to please her.

"Yes?"

"How are you sleeping?"

"Well… just fine until I got a random call at three a.m. from a convict."

"My apologies, my dear."

"I… apology accepted. Really Doctor, are you in need of me? Are you in danger?"

"So eager to please… _in fact_, there is something you can help me with."

"Alright then, what is it?" Clarice sat up a tad, deciding against turning on her bedside lamp.

"Listen to me read Shakespeare."

"Why do you always ask such odd things of me… sure. Sure, read to me." Clarice slapped her forehead for a moment, wondering why he wouldn't be like every other pervy man on the planet. She could handle perverted. Courtesy and kindness from a madman wasn't exactly something she went about every day.

Well, it had become her daily routine _lately_.

"Very good, Clarice. _Two households, both alike in dignity…"_

As Clarice listen to him read Romeo and Juliet with such tact, she let her mind wander. His voice was smooth. Anything but stoic or cold, as so many others had said he was. Clarice wasn't sure whether, at this point, to be freaked out or flattered by the Good Doctor acting the way he does. Over her time with him, she decided that flattery may be the best way to feel. Although he was who he was, Doctor Lecter had never turned her away. A few insults here and there, but Clarice expected that of him. The Good Doctor always gave her what she wanted at some point before she needed it. He was thorough with her like that.

Clarice was hoping that she wasn't getting played by Doctor Lecter, because she was defiantly buying it, even though her heart told her otherwise. Clarice never understood why her heart pined for her to treat him like any old person and her instincts begged to let him closer, inch by inch. Through her reverie, she must have yawned, because he stopped with a soft chuckle.

"Exhausted, little Starling?" She could sense disappointment within his voice, and that broke her heart.

"No… yes… no… _yes_." Clarice dragged out her last syllable, laying on her back and sighing.

"Go to bed. We can continue… another time."

"Alright then. Hey, Doctor. What did you mean when you said _no one can know you're out_?"

A soft chuckle escaped him once more and then the dial tone echoed into her brain's central core. She slammed the phone on the receiver and groaned.

"King of charm? More like king of the jerks." Clarice shook her head, rolling onto her side and drifting to sleep. 


	9. Would You Hold My Hand, Agent Starling?

**Oh I'm sorry, did I forget about you guys? XD**

**As soon as I got a job, all spare time disappeared. I got laid off a little while ago and just got back my creative ability. I reapplied, and if I get rehired this will probably happen again. I apologize in advance and promise to do as much as possible in the time we have.**

"Oh come now, Agent Starling." Doctor Lecter coaxed with a wink and a sly fox grin. She laughed, shaking her head.

"No way. Information is not worth giving up my dignity." Clarice was adamant against his request, as she always was. Yet, he had learned from her mistakes. With enough sweet talking and holding what she wanted just above her head? She would cave into his desires.

"Don't you want to know what I think about you're killer, Agent Starling? I know you're stumped, I can practically smell the frustration." Doctor Lecter watched her neck muscles tense as she swallowed with all her force. He was frustrating Clarice. Oh how it was so easy to tease her. He loved the way she bowed her head, moved hair behind her ear and looked up at him when she finally surrendered to his desires. But there was no sign of this yet.

"No. I'm not risking a limb for information." Her eyes were cold, but Doctor Lecter knew he could warm her up eventually. He rolled his eyes, preparing to whip out the big guns. He looked at the wall, placing his hand under his chin.

"Oh. So you're… scared. That's alright. I suppose I simply thought to highly of you-"

"No hold on just a minute."

Ah… there we go.

"Hmm, Agent Starling? Are we reconsidering?" She nodded to his words, but that left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I want to hear you say it…" Doctor Lecter dragged out each word, knowing Clarice was captivated by the way he surrounded each letter with care as he spoke. He felt a genuine smirk come over his features when she licked her lips in nervousness.

"I'm reconsidering… I'm no chicken."

"Ah… laymen terms but I suppose I'll take that as a victory."

Clarice Starling stood, and Doctor Lecter mirrored her actions. She looks down, regarding the task at hand. She swallowed audibly but refused to let her weakness or fear show. The Good Doctor rapped his fingers patiently, humming a tune of a famous opera song.

"Why does Barney let us get away with these things?" Clarice asked in a whisper only his trained ears could pick up. He hummed louder in response, tilting his head as he watched her tense hand twitch. She felt tense up to her shoulder but no amount of flexing could make that skin crawling feeling go away. She lowered her hand into the air and into it.

The half open drawer connecting his cell to the hall.

She could see his fingers stretching, awaiting her hers to join his. Clarice slowly placed her finger tips on his and then allowed him to do the rest of the work. It was done awkwardly, but their fingers laced. Doctor Lecter rubbed his thumb over her hand, feeling the smooth skin like a fur coat. She took a deep breath in, a new level of her scent available to him.

"Your murder is female, I can see lipstick and make up upon the corpses photographs." He spoke as he wiggled her fingers deeper into the hold. He watched as Clarice's eyes widened. She understood the game she was supposed to play now. Doctor Lecter knew that what she said about dignity went out the window for her. In his eyes, he saw it as gaining dignity. To each their own, he guessed. Clarice took a deep breath, rubbing her thumb up the side of his thumb.

"Age seventeen to nineteen. You can tell by the inexperienced shaky incisions that she's young."

Clarice bent her arm at an awkward angle, moving their palms together in a full-fledged hand holding session. She felt foolish and childish. Women her age do not _hold hands_.

"By the looks of it, the first murder was an accident. Self-defense perhaps. The rest became acts of justice according to the victim's files. All convicted child molesters and rapists, weren't they?" Clarice took in every ounce of information she could until frustrated footsteps echoed from down the hall. She looked over, seeing Chilton storming towards her. Clarice was ready to lose her job until she felt her arm get jolted into the cell. She drawer closed and she fell to her knees in the shooting pain. Doctor Lecter bit around the side of her hand by her thumb, blood pouring out of her wounds.

Oh… how he _hated_ himself when she screamed.

He placed his hand to the glass as Chilton dragged her away from him for first aid. She may not know it now, but Doctor Lecter was merely sparing her job. If Doctor Chilton found they were holding hands and that she was enjoying it, there would be hell to pay. But this way, it looked like a foolish joke that she was the victim of. Doctor Lecter had no doubt that she would come to this realization and perhaps even look at the for sure dark scar with fond memories someday. He hoped that, one day, they would sit together on their Italian leather couch as they held hands and spoke of the first day they did this… someday not to soon. But someday never the less.

But for now, he would have to live with the guilt of hurting Agent Starling.

**See you soon? XD**

**xoxoPN**


	10. Verbal Assault

**YOU ALL PROBABLY THOUGHT I WAS DEAD. WELL JOKES ON YOU XD**

… **howdy guys :3**

Clarice leaned against the stone wall, shoulder pressed against the glass while reading a piece of literature she had neglected for a long time. Aside from the occasional dripping of water from a few cells down, it was silent. She looked up, regarding the Doctor who was mirroring her position across within the cell.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Clarice dog eared her page, leaning forward. Doctor Lecter looked around for a moment, pretending as if she was speaking to someone else before gesturing to his chest.

"Me? I'm smiling? I bet you never thought you would see that. You must treasure this moment, Agent Starling." He smirked, looking back down towards his sketch book. He heard her exasperated and a clearance of a throat. He looked up to Clarice to see her biting her bottom lip.

"No, no. You had a certain smile. A smile people smile for a reason, not just because that's there smile." She accused, pointing a finger and gawking. The Doctor set his things to the side, ready for a very interesting conversation.

"I'm not sure as to what you're referring to." He really didn't, confused by her childish ramblings about smiling. Were there different smiles, come more malicious than others?

"The kind of smile people have when they really enjoy something, thinking of fond memories. What are you thinking about Doctor Hannibal Lecter Ph.D.?" Clarice smiled, scooting over to be face to glass to face with the man.

"Nothing, I can assure you." The Doctor adored how her cheeks reddened with determination. Her fists balled up around her brown coat turned makeshift blanket.

"Well then, why are you smiling that way?" Her voice came up in a painfully high inflection, Doctor Lecter closing his eyes for a moment. He supposed, for her, he wouldn't make a comment around it. Tonight.

"I'm not sure." The Doctor was, for once, out of answers for Clarice. Discontent, she continued to prod.

"Don't lie! Come on, please tell me." Her palms turned upwards, she shrugged her shoulders for emphasis. He supposed, since she had begged, he should give her something.

"Had it occurred to you that I like sitting down here with you as if we are a married couple on a Sunday morning?" The Doctor flashed pristine teeth, Clarice shaking her head with a laugh. She returned to her former position, instead taking the spot next to the Doctor, nearly able to feel his warmth through the glass.

"That's nice of you to say. I like your company as well." She returned to her book, smiling softly into the pages. A few seconds of silence passed before that cool voice filled her ears.

"I'm rather glad you enjoy my company." Earning that last word, par usual for the Good Doctor, made Clarice's smile grow wider.

Clarice's eyes scanned along the lines of print, not really taking in knowledge. She realized how uncharacteristic the last conversation had been, prodding like a love sick teenager in a sad attempt to flirt. If she noticed, he noticed without a doubt. He didn't seem to be saying anything, so she was perfect in her world. He was working on his sketch, lips pursing in concentration. Clarice could have questioned herself as to why she took the time to look at him so instantly anyway, but she let it pass. Blame it on star struck… even though she knew him to well to be a fan.

"What would you be doing right now if you hadn't gotten caught?" Her voice was a whisper, fear of Chilton overhearing the rather risqué conversation.

"Dining in Italy… perhaps France. I have no regrets about getting caught, my dear Starling. For I would not have met the lovely, soon to be legitimate agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation sitting beside me." Doctor Lecter put on a smirk that made all the woman he had come across to melt. Clarice didn't however, rolling her eyes. Rather than disgusting him with rudeness, this enticed him. One does not simply roll their eyes at Doctor Hannibal Lecter, Cannibal, as the public saw it.

"And, if by some rather divine power I had not believed to exist, someone managed to pay you out of here?" Clarice couldn't help but smirk to the side, suddenly enjoying her little verbal walk on the wide side.

"See an opera, cook myself a meal, lacking the mystery meat, of course. In fact, I would invite you over for dinner. I'm a fabulous chef." He looked at her, fully focused upon her facial expressions.

"So I've heard, Man of Many Talents. Wouldn't that be a conflict of interest, though?" She raised an eyebrow, smile growing with each passing second.

"Probably. I've been having a sudden interest in watching you eat. Simply as of late, so the risk would be worth it to sedate my own hunger." He nodded, after thinking for a moment.

"Watch me eat?" Clarice thought the notion sounded rather absurd, not liking to have eyes upon her while eating.

"Yes, watch you eat. The way you would avoid my gaze, chewing with your head down and hand over your mouth to prevent looking like a mess. Your lips lightly grazing your utensil, leaving remnants of lipstick and being extra careful to wipe the general area around your lips to prevent crumbs between each bite. You hair pushed behind your ear, maybe even a giggle when my hand would accidently… on purpose, touch your knee. I suppose that's simply wishful thinking." He smirked, Clarice's jaw nearly hitting the floor. She hadn't known she had this facial expression, but she didn't really care either. Through his soliloquy, his voice was low yet smooth like a warm whiskey. Even for a strong willed Agent of the law, that voice and way with words would make even the driest of individuals drool.

"Sounds… nice." She managed to whisper, not exactly enjoying the triumphant smirk upon his features. Doctor Lecter had the upper hand… again. It was almost funny to Clarice, knowing she had broken just about every rule Craw had given her in relation to the lethal man.

"Oh, let's not forget if I did a very good job of being a host. I might just get a kiss. That's only right of a southern lady to do in manners, don't you know."

"Well, I don't-" She hated being flustered, words stumbling out of her mouth.

"I'd be gentle, I promise. One hand upon your hip, the other caressing your face. I wouldn't initiate the contact of our lips, but I would place my forehead against yours and rub our noses. Not a possessive act but enough to make you interested. I wonder how soft your lips are, Agent Starling. I wonder how you kiss, more often than I'd like to admit. I'd hope you'd place your hands upon my chest and bury in my embrace." Doctor Lecter shut his eyes as he spoke, managing to envision the scenario perfectly. Clarice cleared her throat, standing and straightening her clothes.

"I've got to go now, Doctor Lecter." She looked flushed, breathing heavily while avoiding his gaze. She heard him chuckle and sigh.

"Come back soon and perhaps I'll tell you most about our second kiss… and the third. And seventh. And twentieth." He waved, watching her walk away with a burning intensity.

**See you guys soon? Maybe? I'll try not to leave you kicking in the wind to long…**

**xoxoPN**


	11. Ta Ta Until Tomorrow

**Finally tying up this fanfiction loose end XD Been waiting for inspiration for this forever!**

"I know. I heard, I have the news on right now." Clarice, knees tucked up to her chest, sat under her blankets with a phone tucked to her ear.

"Well yeah, Dee. I can understand why you're worried. But he's too much of a gentleman," Clarice used the term lightly ", he would never come after me. I'll call you in an hour okay? Night girl." She hung up, an expression of malice upon her face. She rubbed her eyes, looking at the clock… midnight and this was still getting press coverage.

The news had broken a few hours ago, Doctor Hannibal Lecter had escaped Baltimore early in the morning. One nurse was dead and two injured. Her phone had been ringing non-stop since the news was broken, everyone who knew of her latest contact with the man wishing her well tonight.

Clarice laughed at the thought. Jack Crawford had called to tell her to be careful, keep her gun close. Everyone around her was burning and itching with worry. Clarice, however, didn't bat an eyelash at the news. She wasn't scared because there was simply a low chance in him coming for her. He'd call, leave a sweet message of a goodbye to her. Even if he did come to her, his intentions would be nothing less than professional.

After all, she had been nothing but polite to him.

"… pictures, sketchbooks, and a photograph of a man with a poem carved on his back were all strewn along Hannibal the Cannibal's bed all with one reoccurring thing. The FBI Agent in Training, Clarice Starling. We went to her commanding officer, Jack Crawford, for a statement but were left with little about the Cannibal and her relationship itself.

_Clarice is a professional young woman and I trusted no one else with this job due to her professionalism. His obsession with her? That is not being fed by Miss Starling whatsoever."_

Jack disappeared from the screen as they showed imagines of his sketchbook. Clarice took in a silent string of breathe, the pictures more breathtaking than she could ever imagine.

Surely not all the pictures were of her, but the news station was adamant on only showing the ones that were. All pictures of their past months of communication. A picture of her angry scolding session after the carved the poem meant for her on the guard's back, one that looked like her giving CPR, her new classy clothing she shamefully bought for his entertainment, one of her holding his mask in her hands… and one of her holding a young little lamb.

"They're rather good." Clarice mumbled to herself, eyes wide at the screen. While it was the strong attention of Doctor Lecter, she had to admit it was damn flattering. Yet she found her concept… her idea that the Doctor wouldn't come for her became less likely. Her gun was on her bedside table, cocked and locked, ready for use. Her heart slowed, eyes turning back to the news. More and more bullshit of how many people he killed, his arrest, and the arresting officer Will Graham, whom she had heard nothing but divine stories of.

Clarice felt her throat, dry form talking all night. Her newly grown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, FBI thick strapped work out tank-top, and grey shorts all left for a very cold awakening as Clarice peeled away from her covers. She bare feet padded against the wooden ground into the kitchen, pulling a cup from the cupboard and filling it with tap water. It was gone within a minute, sink now full of a single dish.

Clarice turned to see a figure… looming in her doorway. Her face dropped and fingers twitched, yet her gun was in her room beyond the figure.

"You could wash that glass, Miss Starling." His unmistakable voice was just like silk tonight, maroon eyes gazing at her through the shadows.

"I could. I could also do it tomorrow, Doctor." She offered an option to him and she heard his lips curve into a smile.

"Let me?" He asked softly, protruding from the dark corner of her home and into the soft light of the kitchen. She walked past her without a second glance. He worked silently, taking her lip gloss stain away from the glass and putting it back on the shelf. He turned to her, leaned against the counter, and smiled.

"I figured more gun waving and accent throwing."

"Gun's in my room."

"Well then," he smirked softly ", I'm glad I didn't visit you there. That was where I originally intended to greet you." God be damned if she didn't blush a little. He was manipulative, yes, but he knew how to sound sincere.

Clarice smiled and nodded, still frozen in the same spot she was standing when she saw his figure. He extending a hand to her, Clarice taking it gently, and let him pull her to her bedroom. He sat her on her bed, hands on her shoulders, and a very intent look in his deep eyes.

"No gun." His voice was sharp and he didn't bat an eyelash. He was expecting her to speak.

"No gun, Doctor. I promise." She whispered, feeling his breathe against her face making her uncomfortable in more than one way.

"Good," Doctor Lecter's gentle smile returned ", because I'm not here to hurt you or threaten you. But I'm definitely not going back to Baltimore. I simply came to say thank you."

Clarice tucked her lips under her teeth, watching him watch her with a strong gaze. The Doctor seemed pleasured but her passive response, continuing on.

"I want to thank you for your… kindness. I'm not sure if you're aware, but the past agents I've come into contact with have been… less than pleasant. I gave you the information you needed to save Katherine without a second thought because you deserved it. You had earned my kindness, trust, and my information."

"I'm glad I had Doctor. A minute too late, one bargaining deal, shipping you somewhere else… it was all on the table. She might have died. So I thank you for trusting me." Clarice wasn't lying, not like she could in front of this man. Doctor Lecter watched her for a moment before smiling a tad brighter.

"Clarice," he stepped forward to her and looked down upon her ", you are a new agent in this world. While I think your purpose in life has to do with much different things, you have to go through with the FBI." His features soften, hands raising. Clarice didn't flinch even as he took the clip holding her bangs up away from her brown hair, her bangs being too short to be in her ponytail. He redid them, bringing her bangs into a slight poof before pinning them back up.

No she wasn't scared of him touching her. But now she was sure as hell interested.

"What do you mean, I have to go through with the-" A poised finger rested upon her partially open lips. He sat beside her, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"You simply must," he took a deep breath in ", there are things to find out. You'll soon discover that your world, full of what you think is justice, is corrupt. More corrupt than myself, or how corrupted society thinks I am. It's full of dirty cops. Good agents quickly change, stop following rules, stop being polite, and doing their job. It gets worse with time Clarice. The honeymoon fades away, my young girl. You have much to learn. Which is why you must go with the FBI." Doctor Lecter seemed saddened by his own words.

"What are my mother options in this world?"

"Come with me. Alas," his eyes dulled ", that isn't an option right now. You wouldn't come willingly. Not yet, anyway, my dear Clarice."

They looked at each other, dull light from the streetlights and television filling her room. His features seemed so much softer now that they weren't coated by nine inch thick bulletproof glass. His skin looked smoother, so much younger, eyes much brighter and more intense than any of the stars in the sky. He spoke nothing of lies or false accusations. Not tonight. No acronyms, no games. This was Hannibal Lecter not as a prisoner, but a person. Clarice saw it in his face that something human was in his heart, something many people overlooked.

So tonight… well, no one could judge her for it.

She placed a shaky hand over his, giving it a squeeze.

"Do you have to go now, Doctor?" Clarice asked, voice gentle with a care she had never felt before.

"I do, Clarice."

"Just for now?" She knew she would later shame herself for sounded so needy of him, desperate to know if this was true.

"Just," his soft smile returned ", for now."

They sat for another moment, looking dead ahead. Clarice turned to see he was looking at her too. It was unnerving, the entire conversation. Unnerving, yet comforting, to know that someone other than Crawford believed in her… even if it is for an entirely different reason.

Leaning over, Clarice placed a kiss against his cheek. It was as gentle as a butterfly, but enough to make him raise his hand and touch where her warm lips had been. His eyes were dark for a reason nowhere close to murder.

"Clarice, I fear if I stay any longer… my gentlemanly quality may not live up to its name." She chuckled, touching his arm with a single finger.

"I won't tell… just stay a little longer." She slid back on her bed, rearranging her pillows to let both herself and the Good Doctor have room. He seemed hesitant, suddenly a child offered with candy after being scorned. Clarice pated the bed and the man gave in. He lay with her, still wide awake. Clarice didn't rest her head on his chest or shoulder. She simply took his hand within her own and closed her eyes.

Doctor Lecter watched her for hours before getting the inner strength to leave. She had pulled him against her back, arm draped over her waist and fingers intertwined. It physically pained him to leave. But she had years to go and he would let her live in this world of 'justice' a little while longer before seeing her again.

When she awoke, the bed was still warm from where he laid. Her sheets and pillows smelt like his musk scent, which she felt herself more reluctant to wash with each passing second… a single note on her bedside stand, in his usual handwriting.

_Clarice,_

_You are fearless, strong, and incredible. No matter what the FBI throws at you, I know you'll survive. Then, someday, we can share our stories of woe. How we missed each other's company for we are the only ones that truly understand one another._

_I still hold onto the dream of sharing our kiss, Clarice… it hurt me more than it hurt you not to steal one last night when you were more than willing to. But our first kiss must be special. You'll be glad my lips didn't ravish your own in time. _

_With my fondest wishes of safety and care,_

_Doctor Hannibal Lecter, MD._

Clarice laughed and cried at the same time. She wondered why she was crying. Out of shame for herself, disrespect for her badge? The fact he was gone and had not going with him? Whatever driving force, she cried for hours, the note clutched against her heart. She folded it gently, putting it in a shoebox and hiding it within the confines of her closet.

Clarice would push on. She knew she needed to. The FBI would be good to her and she could rub it in his face. She would learn and live, see the world, be respected for her life and her choices. So she hoped. But, honestly within herself, she knew the best times she would ever have in her life were spent during the conjugal visits of Doctor Lecter.

**Finally can cross this bad boy off the list! This has been fun, I love writing these two. I'm sure you'll see more in the future because I'm feeling a Hannibal marathon in the near future…**

**xoxoPN**


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